


we're not bruised, they're just party tattoos

by loserbevs



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Birthday, F/M, Kissing, Not-So-Platonic, Skinny Dipping, Smoking, Weed, birthday gifts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-17 21:16:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16981950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loserbevs/pseuds/loserbevs
Summary: it’s bev’s nineteenth birthday. richie helps make it special.





	we're not bruised, they're just party tattoos

**Author's Note:**

> birthday fic for my lovely friend @s-tanleyuris!! i hope you like it kristen ilysm!!

it’s beverly’s nineteenth birthday, and richie picks her up from her apartment in his dad’s car and drives her out to the quarry. the other losers are off at college, but they’ve certainly called to wish her the happiest of birthdays and tell her how much they miss her.

it’s late afternoon and the springtime sun is still hanging low in the sky, and richie watches her strip off her jean shorts and white top, her lacy underwear looking much too fancy to go swimming in.

he clears his throat. “did you bring a swimsuit?” he asks, feeling foolish for actually putting on a pair of swim trunks when he normally wouldn’t care about getting his clothes wet.

she smirks. “what, seeing me in my lingerie is getting you all flustered, rich?” she asks, quirking her brow and striking a silly pose that she still manages to look good in.

“obviously not,” he scoffs, but the pink tinge on his freckled face seems to prove otherwise. “that bra just looks fancy, i didn’t think you’d wanna get it wet.”

“so now you want to skinny-dip, huh?”

before he can stutter out an argument, she’s already unhooking her bra and letting it fall into a pile with the rest of her clothes, looking entirely unfazed at being topless in front of him. which, yes, makes sense, because it isn’t the first time, but holy shit, richie will never get over how beautiful she is.

“my eyes are up here, tozier,” she says.

“sorry! but damn, you expect me  _ not _ to stare?” he asks, gesturing with a grin.

she grins right back and reaches out to punch him in the shoulder, and he bats at her fist playfully.

“so, your turn.”

“what?” 

“i took off my bra, now you gotta strip.”

“i’m already shirtless, bev.”

“haha, trashmouth. you know what i mean.”

“you’re the one who wanted to do this, not me!”

“was i really though, or were you just too shy to ask?” she questions, hands on her hips.

he opens his mouth, then closes it again. with a sigh, he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of his trunks and drops them, stepping out of them and self-consciously crossing his hands in front of his groin.

she grins, then does the same with her underwear, the bush of red hair between her legs shamelessly making its appearance. then, without warning, she runs for the cliff and jumps off, and richie watches her with a fond roll of his eyes before he sucks up the courage to follow, bracing himself for the cold splash into the water.

they went skinny-dipping once before, all seven of them, but it had been at nighttime, and bev seemed much more self-conscious surrounded by the boys. now, she doesn't care one bit, splashing at richie and laughing, her hair wet and matted to her forehead. she keeps moving it into different styles to make richie cackle with laughter at how ridiculous she looks.

when the sun begins to set and the temperature drops slightly, they brave the chill of the air and got out of the water, shivering and giggling like wild.

bev put on her underwear and shorts again, but remained topless, which richie couldn’t decide he was grateful for or not. on one hand, he appreciated the view, but it was making it hard for him to truly think straight. he pulls his shorts back on too, then grabs his bag and rummages around for a slightly dented box, poorly wrapped in seasonally inappropriate christmas wrapping paper.

she snorts when she sees the wrapping paper, giving him an amused glance.

“it was all we had,” he defends himself with a shrug.

she carefully unwraps it, her smile barely bitten back. inside is a copy of  _ the handmaid’s tale _ by margaret atwood, a new peachy-pink lighter, and a pair of socks with cats on them.

“i know it’s not much, but-”

before he can finish, she’s pulled him in for a hug. “i love it. thank you so much, rich.”

he hugs her back and pulls away with pink cheeks and a shy smile, then reaches into his backpack again for a plastic baggie full of nicely-sized green nuggets of weed, a pipe, and his own rainbow lighter. bev grins and grabs the bag from his hand. she packs the bowl with skilled, nimble fingers and hums beneath her breath as she does it. richie watches her with wide, adoring eyes.

“first hit for the birthday bitch,” he whispers when she’s finished, and she giggles, putting the pipe into her mouth as richie lights it for her, careful not to let it burn as she inhales, deep and her seawater eyes flutter shut.

a thick cloud of smoke tumbles from her lips and into his face as she passes him the bowl, and he takes a hit, coughing a little as he exhales.

she giggles again at that, and he flips her off jokingly.

it only takes them a few hits to be a satisfying degree of high, and they lean back against a log and stare up at the dimming sky, smiles etched into their faces.

“how did you get that?” richie asks, gesturing to a bruise on beverly’s knee.

she shrugs. “i probably hit it on a rock getting outta the water, or something. i don’t remember,” she replies.

he frowns suddenly, leaning in to press his lips against the black and blue splotch, soft and sweet.

“i love bruises, actually,” she says. “well, only recently, but i like that they tell little stories. like scars and scrapes and hickies and tattoos, they have their own meanings and shit. even if you can’t remember them.”

“that’s deep,” richie replies, his tone teasing, and she pokes him in the side a few times as revenge.

“i’m serious!” she says. “like, this scar here,” she starts, her hand coming to rest on richie’s arm, fingers tracing along the faded pink mark on his forearm. “this is when bill dared you to try climbing onto the roof and you fell. that’s a story.”

“a dumb one,” he replies.

“still,” she insists, and then her hands are cupping his face in her hands. “dumb but funny. maybe even a little brave.”

“i’m not brave,” he argues, blushing furiously. “you’re brave. eddie too. and bill. hell, compared to all of you i’m kind of a coward.”

her eyes narrow. “i think you’re plenty brave,” she tells him seriously, and before he can open his mouth to fight her on it, she’s kissing him.

she tastes like generic drugstore chapstick and weed, but richie’s sure his lips are no better, so he ignores it and instead kisses her back harder, his arms wrapping around her waist as she moves to straddle him, one hand stays on his cheek and the other tangles in his curls, his glasses tilting on his nose.

her back is still bare, and richie runs his hands over her smooth skin, feeling the muscles relax under his hands. they had hooked up before, but never in public, nor with so much passion. also, richie can feel himself sobering, which is usually not the case either. but, fuck, he is  _ so _ not complaining.

she grinds herself against him, and they pull back for air, a groan slipping from him.

“happy birthday to me,” she jokes, feeling him begin to get hard beneath her.

“happy birthday,” he replies before kissing her again.

she’d be lying if she said it wasn’t the best birthday she’s had yet.

 

**Author's Note:**

> hope u enjoyed!! feedback is always appreciated


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